A metaphor for time.
It's just little things inside big things and what would matter at the end is our collection of experiences. You'll lay awake at night less for the remarkable things that had happened and more for what always did. You'll realize that it is better to be consistent than extravagant.
I remember how we walked home together while sipping mango juice through green straws more than I remember my ex-boyfriends. I basked in more magnificent sunsets with friends than I ever did with them. Maybe that's when I learned that your firsts belong to the likely candidates that will be present during your lasts, because you don't want to sit in a cafe or restaurant thinking about how he held your hand as you walked through the front door or how he laughed when your eyes bulged because you ate something too spicy and now you can't sip a simple coffee without tasting him in your tongue. You don't want to be surprised by how places can be so good at holding onto memories for you; you can't look at a spot without remembering that moment.
The things we do are more permanent than tattoos. So fill these meager days with something you find incredibly worth it and don't let regret follow you like an annoying tail. Fill them with food and games and laughter and love and buildings and travels and books and music and art and people....and you can even fill them with solitude. Take care on who you get lost with, and if you ever get lost at all.
